When is a trilogy not a trilogy? When it's a matter of editorial convenience. Shakespeare's disparate collection of dramas dealing with the Wars of the Roses arguably became the three parts of Henry VI only so that the posthumously produced First Folio would have a tidier table of contents.

The Globe's new touring version reverts to approximations of the plays' original conception – a two-part torso called, respectively, the Houses of York and Lancaster and the True Tragedy of the Duke of York, which is preceded by a rather ragged prequel entitled Harry the Sixth. And though it is possible to see the plays in sequence – including all-day performances on the actual battlegrounds – Nick Bagnall's production draws out the dissonance and contradictions between the dramas.

Played out against an austere pair of scaffolding towers with a mixture of medieval costume and contemporary props, Bagnall presents a maelstrom of violence and intrigue in which a vast list of characters are hacked down, resurrected and come back for more.

The sole constant is Graham Butler's Henry, whose sweet temper and infantile piety suggest he would make a better primary school teacher than king. At one point he pats his lap and insists that two fractious lords sit beside him, as if the Wars of the Roses could be averted by a moment on the naughty step. The concept – like the plays themselves – appears crude in places, but the strong company hurtles through the text with unstoppable momentum. The calm centre is Henry's long soliloquy during the battle of Towton, delivered not on a molehill but an upturned pail. It becomes the defining image of Bagnall's production – a powerless monarch sitting on a bucket while a succession of disaffected barons take turns to kick it.

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